


Ghost of a Chance

by non_tiembo_mala



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Dirty Talk, First Time, Frottage, Gratuitous use of pet names (not sorry), Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Mild D/S undertones, Mutual Pining, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: In which Steve stays home and mopes, Bucky comes home and overshares about his date, then revelations (and orgasms) ensue.





	Ghost of a Chance

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really, really struggling to get ideas on paper lately. This is my heartfelt attempt at getting back to it, with Steve and Bucky no less, who I love dearly but I'm still learning how to write. I do hope it's okay!
> 
> Title from Bing Cosby's _I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance with You_ , which, frankly, is all too fitting.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [gluedwithgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold).

It’s late. A lot later than Steve thought it would be. 

He’s a little _drunker_ than he thought he would be. 

He doodles lazily where he sits up in his bed, his sketchbook propped up against his legs, knees up and heels digging into the thin mattress. He sighs as he overshades to cover up a wibbly line he didn’t mean to make, then simply scribbles over the entire doodle. He huffs, straightening out his legs and letting his book and pencil slide off his thigh. He glares at the remaining whiskey in the glass on his nightstand. His expression morphs into a scowl and his head swims and his cheeks burn from the alcohol simmering in his veins. 

They were going to share it. At least, that’s what Bucky had said when he showed up at their apartment with it earlier this week. _One ‘a the guys down at the dock, he gave it to me for all the extra work I did last Saturday. You ‘member, Stevie?_

Steve did remember. They were going to go to Coney Island except Bucky’s buddy had asked for a favour. He’d had a family thing, and could Bucky please cover for him. Steve can’t even be mad, since Bucky being such a good guy is part of why Steve– well, anyway.

“I remember, Buck,” Steve had answered, eyeing the amber liquid skeptically. He doesn't hold his liquor well, isn’t built for it even remotely, and Bucky getting drunk can be heaven or hell, depending. 

“We’ll drink this weekend. You ‘n me,” Buck had said, joking, but there’d been something in his eyes that made Steve hot inside, not too unlike how he feels at the moment, now that there’s some whiskey in his belly. 

But Bucky isn’t here. He’d gone out after lunch, and when he came back, he’d announced he had found them dates. To go out dancing. Steve had been grumpier than he meant to be, but watching Buck dance with a pretty girl while Steve’s own date obviously resented being stuck with him– Steve hated it. Bucky’s eyes on some dame’s face, his hands all over her– Steve doesn’t want to be a woman but in those moments he sure wishes he was. Some days he can tough it out but today was not one of them.

Bucky had looked hurt, in the end, when he stood in their doorway with one hand on the handle and a final, resigned glance over his shoulder at Steve before leaving. Steve’s anger drained out of him with each step Bucky took away from him, leaving him sad and feeling stupid for being stubborn when he could’ve at least _been_ with Bucky tonight. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall behind him, trying not to wonder what the late hour means Bucky is getting up to, and as he drops his gaze he sees the dark smudges of charcoal in his cream coloured sheets. The outside of his right hand is nearly black with it, too, and Steve huffs. He knows what Bucky would say. _Aw, Stevie, why you gotta do that in bed? Now we got more laundry to do._

But Bucky isn’t here. Steve clenches his jaw and huffs again, then deliberately rubs his hand into the sheet, making it all worse. The brief, childish satisfaction he gets out of the growing mess subsides quickly, and then Steve is groaning at himself for being so ridiculous. For being stupid, about the sheets, and making Bucky go alone, and drinking the whiskey when he knows he shouldn’t. 

There’s no good reason for him to still be up when Bucky gets home now. No sense waiting, not when what walks through their door is only going to hurt him, and Steve has had enough that he might do something _truly_ stupid.

He puts his sketchbook and pencil on the nightstand and turns off his light. Bucky’s is still on next to his bed, only a few feet away, but Steve doesn’t care. He slides down in the bed, rolls to face the wall, and shuts his eyes against the way the room starts to spin. 

\---

The jingle of keys and a fumbling at the door wake Steve from a dreamless sleep. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, just listens as Bucky steps into their apartment. 

He avoids the creaky board just inside the door but his footfalls are heavier than he means them to be as he attempts to tip toe to his bed. Steve can smell the drink on him and the lingering smoke of cigarettes. Even just this barely there whiff irritates Steve’s lungs, catching his breath a little, and he wrestles the cough as best he can until he can’t any longer, hacking into his pillow as he turns into it to muffle the sound. 

“Shit,” Bucky whispers, like Steve isn’t already awake. “Sorry, Stevie– I– hold on.”

Steve shakes his head because he can’t catch his breath well enough to argue, but as the fit eases up, he can hear the clink of Bucky’s belt, the slide of his suspenders going slack over his shoulders as he undresses, and Steve’s throat is tight for a different reason completely. He will not roll over to face him, no he will not.

“Sorry,” Bucky is still mumbling, tripping out of his pants and tossing everything into a lidded hamper. He stumbles to the window at the foot of Steve’s bed and Steve can’t help but look down the length of his body to watch Bucky open it, wearing nothing but his undershirt and shorts. 

Bucky throws open the window and gracelessly waves his arms a moment as if that’ll clear the air, casting a glance towards Steve and catching his eyes in the bright moonlight.

“You’re awake,” Bucky says, almost surprised, and there’s no sense in denying it now. Steve nods. 

“Sorry,” Bucky looks sheepish as he goes back to his bed, lifting the sheets and climbing in, turning off his lamp as he does. 

“S’alright,” Steve answers unconvincingly into the dark, though he’s not mad to be losing sleep, not when Bucky’s involved. 

They’ve both been drinking but Bucky must still hear the insincerity because the quiet between them is awkward. It’s the only thing Steve hates more than not having Bucky at all. He does then, finally, roll onto his back and shimmies up the pillow a bit, mirroring the way Bucky is half sitting up across the room, even though he can only make out his silhouette in the moonlight through the window. 

“Sorry I went without you–”

“Did ya have a good night?”

They talk over one another, and the silence that resumes is heavy with the same tension in the wake of their hushed voices. Steve can’t acknowledge Bucky’s apology, not now, in the cover the night provides, not when he’s not sober and knows damn well he shouldn’t be mad about Bucky going dancing. Shouldn’t be mad about a lot of things. 

Finally, Bucky sighs in that way that Steve knows is for his own stubbornness. It makes him smile a little despite himself as Bucky starts to answer his question.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he says. “I guess so. Woulda been better with you, ya punk.”

Steve snorts. He seriously doubts that, especially if there are ladies involved. 

“She turned ya down then, huh?” Steve teases, trying not to sound hopeful about it. His chest tightens when Bucky scoffs.

“Please,” Bucky laughs, like the idea alone is ridiculous. Steve wishes he could disagree, but there’s nothing he’d say no to if Bucky asked either. “I woulda been home way sooner, ‘cept she was real friendly, as it turns out.”

Steve swallows thickly, jealousy spiking hot across his body, his dick twitching just to wonder at what Bucky means. 

“God, Stevie, shoulda seen her. Pretty blonde hair, big blue eyes, red lips and tits like–” Steve sees movement in the shadows as Bucky brings up both hands to make two cups in front of him. “ _Mmm_.”

“Yeah?” Steve says after a moment, dumbly, not sure what else to say to break the silence, to distract himself and his interested dick from the image of Bucky with his hands on some dame’s breasts. His voice croaks pathetically as if to mock him even further.

“Yeah, _shit_ ,” Bucky laughs, breathless and a little silly, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, how much Bucky has had to drink tonight. More than Steve, that’s for sure. “She let me get my hands all over her. Each titty a perfect little handful. Hell, she can’t have been much bigger than you, Stevie.”

The picture in Steve’s mind is suddenly of himself backed against some wall, Bucky’s hands on _his_ chest as if he was some girl, and Steve has to bite back a whimper. 

Bucky whistles long and low, the sound a perfect disguise as Steve opens his knees a little and slides a hand into his shorts to grab his aching cock, just to hold it, take the edge off. Steve’s bed is the one still mostly in shadow, and Steve has had enough whiskey to think that under the covers he can be discreet.

“She was– I mean, she let me get my _mouth_ on her. Sucked on her while she got into my pants, right there behind the bar.”

Bucky keeps talking, but Steve is only half listening to the words he’s saying, caught up in the fantasy of it being him instead, with Bucky’s mouth on one of his nipples while he fumbles to undo Bucky’s slacks. His hand moves on his dick just the slightest amount, fighting to keep his arm still even as he can feel himself get lost in the sound of Bucky’s voice, picturing himself instead of the faceless, nameless broad Bucky is going on about. 

“–next thing I know, she’s on her knees in the goddamn alley, Stevie, like once she got going she wasn’t gonna stop. Pulled me out right where anyone might see, left lipstick all over my shorts–” 

Steve’s the one on his knees in his mind, he’s the one holding Bucky’s dick in his hand. Steve’s seen it before, course he has, but not any way that’s leisurely or for him, not like he’s had a chance to see how really different they are, Bucky being cut the way he is, see how big and wet he can get when Steve’s about to– 

“–she knew what she was doin’, I’ll tell ya that. Her mouth felt so good–”

Jealousy flares again, sharp and angry under his skin, and Steve would let Bucky teach him, train him to be better than any dame, practice day and night if Bucky’d let him. 

He’s lost track of where he is now, Bucky’s recounting of his evening’s exploits little more than the vague rumble of his best friend’s voice in his ear as he jerks off properly, wondering what it would feel like to have Bucky’s dick in his mouth, the weight of it, what he’d taste like, and– 

Steve moans and the sound startles him out of his own reverie, makes him freeze. Bucky isn’t talking anymore. In the dark there’s only Steve’s thundering heart and harsh panting. 

“Steve,” Bucky starts, voice low and questioning as he sits all the way upright, one leg sliding off the bed. “Steve, are you– you jerkin’ off?”

Steve makes a strangled sound he’s not proud of, looks away from Bucky even though he doesn’t think Bucky can see his face. He’s afraid to move, not sure there’s a subtle way to let go of himself now that Bucky’s looking right at him, paying attention. 

“ _Stevie_ ,” Bucky breathes out like a curse, in a tone Steve isn’t sure he’s heard before. Indecipherable, though it still makes his dick throb against his palm. He is in deep, deep trouble now. This definitely counts as a stupid thing he was trying to avoid doing.

“Buck, please–” Steve starts, mortified, not sure what’s his way out of this one, how he’s supposed to play it. 

“Did you finish?” Bucky cuts him off, both feet on the floor now, each hand holding the mattress on either side of his legs as he stares Steve down.

“W-what?” Steve chokes out. 

“Did you come, Steve?” He repeats, more clearly, voice husky but firm in a way that makes Steve’s breath come out in an audible gasp. 

He’s shaking his head no before he can find any words.

“No, I– uh,” his mind is still stuck on the sound of those words from Bucky’s mouth. Bucky lets him flounder another moment before getting up and crossing the distance between their beds to sit on the edge of Steve’s. Steve can barely breathe as Bucky narrows his eyes at him in the near-dark, like he’s trying to see into Steve’s head. Then, finally, “you wanna?”

Steve can’t believe his ears, his brain can’t process what Bucky is saying. 

“What?” he asks again like a dumb schmuck, vocabulary all but gone with Bucky’s weight dipping down Steve’s mattress while his hand is in his shorts holding onto his half-hard cock, caught somewhere between arousal and terror. 

Bucky shifts, looks away as he runs a hand through his hair in a tell Steve knows very well. He’s _nervous_. Steve is stunned, staring and confused.

“Steve,” his voice is serious now, and Steve is _terrified_. “Is it– the broad– you… want me to keep talking? ‘Bout her?”

Steve’s heart falls so hard and fast it might as well be in the sewer. He didn’t know what he thought was happening, where this was going or what he should even be hoping for. He should be relieved Bucky thinks it’s about the girl, but Bucky sounds a little hesitant, too, and Steve feels a little sick. It must show on his face, because suddenly Bucky is backpedaling.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry, I’m drunk– I shouldn’ta– just forget it–”

He starts to get up and before he can stop himself Steve is reaching out, grabbing at Bucky’s arm. Bucky’s frozen now, standing next to Steve’s bed and looking down at him where his hand is wrapped around his wrist. 

“Bucky, wait,” Steve breathes out, barely a whisper. “It ain’t– ain’t the dame, okay? _I’m_ the one who should be sorry.”

He lets go of Bucky’s arm then, pulling his knees up and wrapping his own arms around them, then leans forward to hide his face. He shuts his eyes as if he could vanish from this moment, this mistake, and take it all back before fucking everything up with the one and only person Steve can’t live without. 

In the next moment, Bucky’s hand lights on his shoulder and Steve jolts at the touch, looking up at him in surprise. 

“What are you telling me, Stevie? Is it– me?”

“Buck–”

“Because it’s you, Steve,” Bucky cuts him off again, gives his shoulder a squeeze as he sucks in a big breath. “For me, it’s always been you, Steve. I just– fuck. Figured if I couldn’t have you then– ‘cause I never thought– you might actually–”

“Yeah, Bucky, ‘course it– ‘course it’s you, ya jerk. God, can hardly stand it, seeing you dancing– seeing you with ‘em at all. Just– want it to be me.”

It comes out in a rush, a confession to match Bucky’s, and Steve is trying not to panic, heart like a jackhammer behind his ribs. Did they really just say that? Is Steve dreaming? Does Bucky _really_ –

“You jealous?” Bucky’s obviously teasing, which is welcome and familiar, but there’s something dark in it, an edge Steve hasn’t heard before. Breathy. _Provocative_. 

Steve’s eyes go wide because it’s not really a question so much as an accusation, and the answer is of course _yes, dammit_. Steve squares his jaw and holds Bucky’s gaze, won’t give him the satisfaction of another admission right now, not when it’s clear Bucky somehow already knows. Bucky knows the look on Steve’s face now, too, defiant, and he grins with a flash of white.

“Stevie, you jealous?” Bucky asks again, and this time his hand is on Steve’s jaw, keeping his head tilted up, keeping their eyes locked. It’s confident and cocky and it makes Steve’s dick start to swell again, the way Bucky’s not letting up, not giving him the option not to answer. There’s a tremor in Bucky’s grip that betrays him, tells Steve he’s not positive he’s playing this right either, and _that’s_ what makes Steve give in.

“Yeah, Buck. I’m jealous. Always been jealous. Always–” Steve bites his lip, hesitates a moment, but they’re all in now. The cards are all on the table and Bucky’s still holding his face, moved right up close to the edge of the bed so one knee presses into it. “Always want them dames you’re with to be me instead.” 

Bucky lets out a shuddery breath that feels like relief, and Steve relaxes into Bucky’s grip at the easy, pleased expression on his best friend’s face.

“Is that what you were doing just then? Touching yourself thinking ‘bout being on your knees for me? Thinking ‘bout sucking my dick, Steve?” 

Goddamn Bucky’s mouth. Steve’s toes curl just thinking about it, just hearing it from his lips, and his dick is straining now, drooling just like Steve is. 

“Yeah,” Steve barely manages, raspy, and Bucky is letting him go now, running that hand through his hair. Still nervous, then. It makes Steve’s stomach swoop.

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, stepping back. “Fuck. Can’t believe I’ve been– this whole time– _shit_.”

“Buck, please,” Steve liked this better with Bucky’s hands on him. They’re both on unsure footing here but contact between them has always helped Steve feel steady. Safe.

Steve’s plea is effective, bringing Bucky’s focus back to him immediately, and Bucky is right there at his side again, reaching for his face.

“Baby,” Bucky says, small, and Steve does whimper then, presses his face into Bucky’s hands as his eyes flutter shut on the sound of that little word. Bucky tugs him up, and Steve gets his legs under him so he’s kneeling on the bed, chest to chest with Bucky who stands next to it, and he puts his hands on Bucky’s waist, both to keep his balance and to remind him this is real. 

Almost eye to eye now Steve is jittery. Bucky’s gaze is soft but intense and Steve never thought he’d get to see him like this, for him. In the next breath, Bucky ducks his head and then they’re kissing. Steve’s never done this before, and it startles him even though he saw it coming. Bucky controls the kiss, moving his mouth against Steve’s and then parting Steve’s lips with his tongue and Steve _moans_ around it, hungry for it, so much it almost makes him frantic. Bucky chuckles against his mouth but doesn’t let up, kisses him hard and deliberate, so Steve can figure it out, so he can start to copy what Bucky’s doing.

One of Bucky’s hands is at the nape of Steve’s neck now, fingers in his hair tugging to angle Steve this way and that while they kiss, and the other arm is wrapped all the way around Steve’s slim frame, pulling them flush together. Bucky’s firm, warm body is trapping Steve’s dick between them and Steve gasps around Bucky’s tongue, hips instinctively bucking against the resistance.

“Fuck, baby, _baby_ ,” Bucky nearly growls against his lips when Steve makes another helpless sound to be called that, holds him close so Steve’s erection is pressing in against his stomach and Steve can’t move back – not that he’d want to. Bucky rolls his hips and the movement rubs Steve just right, makes him shake and hold onto Bucky tighter. 

“You– you like that, Steve? When I call you that?” Bucky pants into his ear, shifting so his own cock is pressing into Steve’s thigh and– _oh god, yes,_ that is really Bucky’s dick. Long, thick, hard, and _touching Steve_. 

Steve nods, fast, digs his fingers into Bucky while he tries to remember any words at all.

“Wanna be my baby, Steve?”

“Please, Bucky,” Steve whines, desperate for it now that they’re here and Bucky’s asking. 

“Shit, Stevie, baby, babydoll, sweetheart–” Bucky can’t stop, he’s running his mouth now with every sweet thing Steve has imagined in his dreams. There’s an urgent undercurrent to his voice and the way his hands move on Steve’s body and Steve is still reeling that Bucky’s no better off right now than he is. “Come ‘ere.”

Bucky holds Steve to him tightly and _lifts_ him as he gets his knees up on Steve’s bed. 

“Bucky!” Steve clings to him, startled, and he laughs as Bucky awkwardly clambors onto the mattress, folding Steve underneath him, then eases him down against his pillow. Looking up at Bucky’s face from the flat of his back, Steve is surrounded. Bucky is above him, his hands on the mattress on each side of his head, knees bracketing Steve’s legs so his whole world is just Bucky. It’s everything Steve has ever wanted. His hands shake a little as he clasps them together on the back of Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky seems to take a moment to appreciate this same view, finally sighing and giving his head a shake. “Stevie, is this– really on the level? Saw you got into that whiskey. You ain’t soused right now, are ya? Not gonna regret this tomorrow?”

Steve knows he’s definitely not sober but that doesn’t change a damn thing. “Nah, Bucky. I mean, I did– drink some. But I couldn’t–”

Steve shakes his head, takes a deep breath, lets this thumbs play in the short hair at Bucky’s nape. “I’ve wanted this a long time.” 

Bucky drops his head on another relieved laugh, and Steve’s heart is so full and light.

“Me, too, Steve.” Bucky kisses him then and it’s soft, gentler than those first frantic connections, and Steve marvels at the easiness of it, like they’ve done this a thousand times before despite it being so incredibly new.

Bucky shifts without breaking the kiss, dropping his hips to meet Steve’s, rubbing them together through their shorts.

“ _Bucky!_ ” Steve keens, grabbing at Bucky’s shoulders as he throws his head back into his pillow, it feels so damn good. 

“God, Stevie, look so good like this,” Bucky groans, rolling his hips to drag their lengths together. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve squirms under him, overwhelmed by how it feels to be pinned like this, friction like he’s never felt before, the weight of Bucky’s body, the things he’s saying– it’s so much. Bucky– Bucky thinks– 

“You think I’m pretty?” Steve breathes, chasing Bucky’s mouth to keep kissing him. Bucky hums into it, then leans back, panting, to fix Steve with a serious stare.

“The prettiest,” he repeats, and Steve feels himself blush. Bucky smiles like he sees it, too, pleased like he’s proved his point somehow, and Steve flusters.

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk,” Steve says, like it was an insult instead, only because he doesn’t know how to take the kindness, and Bucky full-on grins now.

“Aw, Stevie, you think I’m pretty?” he tosses back teasingly, batting his lashes. 

“Ah, shaddup,” Steve groans, rolling his eyes as Bucky starts laughing. Then Bucky dips down, nuzzling in to Steve’s neck to kiss him there, nipping and grazing the skin with his teeth and Steve’s groan turns into something else. 

“ _Buck–_ ” Steve gasps as Bucky starts up again with his hips.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it. Love hearing you say my name like that, fuck,” Bucky mumbles into his neck, his breath hot on Steve’s skin.

“Bucky, Bucky,” Steve babbles, egged on by Bucky’s words, content to mindlessly chant his name as he shifts fitfully underneath him, chasing the movement of Bucky’s body with his own. Steve never wants this to end, wants to be surrounded by Bucky like this forever, but it’s too good, better than anything Steve’s ever felt, better than he could’ve imagined. Bucky is relentless, both in the back and forth of his hips and the pull of his mouth as he sucks on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Buck–” Steve tries to catch his breath, scrape together a few words. “I wanted– thought you were gonna– _uhh_ ”

Steve shudders as Bucky presses a kiss to his now overly sensitive skin, like how it almost hurts, tender where there must be a bruise. 

“Thought I was gonna what, sweetheart?” Bucky asks between kisses up Steve’s neck, along his jaw. 

“Want you to teach me, Buck, I wanna try,” Steve is clinging to Bucky like he’s just hanging on for the ride, completely at Bucky’s mercy. The weight of him limits Steve’s leverage and all he can do is press up into it and turn his head in to talk against Bucky’s ear, breathe in the heady scent of him. 

“Oh shit, _Steve_ ,” Bucky groans. 

“Wanna taste you, Bucky, please,” Steve doesn’t even care that he’s begging. He’s already so close, and thinking about getting Bucky in his mouth is only getting him closer.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky curses and pushes back up on his hands, speeds up his hips as he looks down at Steve. “Next time, baby, I swear. Want it, want it so bad, but– shit, I’m so close–”

“God, Bucky, me too,” Steve exhales in a rush, chest heaving, each breath punctuated by a small, hurt sound that Bucky’s forcing out of him.

“Oh, sweetheart, _yes_ ,” Bucky starts rambling. “You gonna come for me, Stevie?”

Steve whimpers, barely manages to nod for how close he is, his whole body tensing up.

“Come on then, baby. Come for me,” Bucky grunts out and that’s it. 

Steve cries out Bucky’s name as it starts, intense, shivery hot waves washing over him from head to toe. He shudders through it, body curling in towards Bucky as he spills into his shorts, and for a moment he can’t breathe. It’s not scary though, even as his head swims and his vision goes white and a little starry. Bucky is right there, above him, all around him, holding him down with his whole body, and absently Steve thinks if he never breathed again that’d still be okay, at least he had this. 

\---

“Steve, Stevie, baby, hey.”

Steve’s eyes blink open. It’s still dark, their room lit only by the moon coming in their open window, and Bucky is laying on his side right next to him, head propped up on one hand while the other rubs gentle circles on Steve’s chest. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” Bucky smiles, his face relaxing with obvious relief. 

“Bucky, what–” Steve shifts to face him, rolling onto his side, and the movement pulls his shorts, which are stuck to him in a tacky mess of drying come. 

“Lost you for a second there,” Bucky whispers, shaky enough to betray his fear, and Steve is mortified. He must’ve passed out, and Bucky, Bucky would’ve been– 

“You okay, Stevie?” He asks, painfully gentle, leaning in to brush their noses together. 

“Buck, are you kidding me right now?” Steve laughs, tilting his head the rest of the way to catch Bucky’s mouth in a kiss. “I feel– fuck, I feel incredible. That was incredible, and you– Bucky, did you–? Shit.”

Steve looks down between them as he realizes, spluttering through his question and knocking their foreheads together. 

“Oh, I definitely came,” Bucky laughs then, and Steve looks back up at him with a dopey smile spreading across his face. “Right after you, baby. How could I not? I was right there and then, God, if you could see yourself, Stevie, fuck.” 

Steve flushes again, looks away as he wrestles with the pride and inability to see what Bucky sees. “Good.”

“But you’re okay, really?” Bucky asks again, just to be sure, and Steve is used to this, Bucky checking in, looking after him. “This is okay?”

Steve kisses him before he answers, humming happily into his mouth. “I’m okay. This is okay. Better than, Buck. Promise.”

Bucky grins against Steve’s lips and then kisses him back, slow and easy and unhurried. Steve just melts into it, his body loose and heavy with his release, and when Bucky lets up, Steve sighs into the space between them. He tucks his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck and folds his arms between them.

“Stay?” It’s out of his mouth before Steve can think to stop it, and his heart rate ticks up at the sudden uncertainty of it, what if he’s asked too much.

Bucky snorts, and the ridiculous sound immediately puts Steve back at ease. “Like you could ever get rid of me, pal.” 

Steve didn’t mean in general so much as in his bed, tonight, to sleep, but then Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s waist as he settles against him, sharing Steve’s pillow and tugging the blanket out from under him to drape over them both. 

“Not going anywhere, Stevie, you know that. I’m with you–”

“–til the end of the line, yeah, I know,” Steve finishes for him, like it’s tiresome when in reality it’s anything but. 

“Smartass,” Bucky chirps back, with no heat whatsoever, instead sleepy and somehow fond. Steve grins drowsily against Bucky’s chest and falls asleep wrapped in the arms of his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are love <3


End file.
